


try to listen, but her whispers make my ears hurt

by revoleotion



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Ghost hux, Haunting, Pryde centric, brief description of gore, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revoleotion/pseuds/revoleotion
Summary: “You’re not real,” Pryde breathes.“Does it matter?” Hux’ ghost asks.In his last moments, Pryde is haunted by Hux' ghost.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Enric Pryde
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	try to listen, but her whispers make my ears hurt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessKo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessKo/gifts), [kawaiihux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiihux/gifts).



> Happy Halloween... I'm a little late but I will count it. Aneleise helped a lot with this idea and also supplied a couple of lines for the dialogue, so thanks for that!! <3
> 
> There are a few obvious and a few less obvious references to the TROS novel, just in case some lines seem familiar. 
> 
> This is also for @JessKo because they motivate me to produce more Pryde centered stuff. It's so much fun too!

When the world goes up in flames around him, Enric Pryde is paralyzed by fear. It eats him up from the inside, occupies his every thought and glues his legs to the floor. Precious seconds pass, seconds he could use to run, to escape, to make it to an escape pod. 

His memory nudges him, tells him the floor plans of his perfect ship, the love of his life, but Pryde doesn't move. The chaos spreads like a wildfire, his crew runs into each other, yells and curses and begs. It’s not like it will make a difference. 

_All for nothing._ It's with an intense rush of panic that Pryde realizes that all he ever did only led him here. For a few hours he was the most powerful man in the First Order, and yet he's cornered by a fleet of civilians, New Republic supporters from all around the galaxy, his precious Empire a fever dream at the back of his head. His best was not good enough. 

Something flickers in front of him, the outline, silhouette of a person. Pryde blinks a few times, like it’s hard to tell who it is. Like he doesn’t know who it is the second he sees the transparent face with an expression of deadly terror forever burned into delicate features. It’s the face of a man who thought he had time to run. The face of a man who was so busy thinking about survival that death caught him by surprise. 

_“What are you doing?”_

The voice is so familiar, an echo pulled from Pryde’s memories. He’s annoyed by it already - it’s funny how he can miss something so badly but the second he’s reminded of it again, all he can think about is how much he hated the way Hux would never get to the point, how he’d always try to please everyone, how he’d do that stupid little bow whenever a conversation came to an end. How he’d never tell the full truth, how he’d keep secrets to make himself more important. At first Pryde had been annoyed because he considered Hux incompetent but it hadn’t taken him long to understand that Hux was simply playing the game by his own rules. One could say he cheated his way through it. Every omission was a guarantee to live another day. Until it wasn’t. Until Pryde snatched that blaster and…

“You’re not real,” Pryde breathes. 

_“Does it matter?”_ Hux’ ghost asks. 

This makes him smile, only a little. A faint smile, the kind he’d give Hux to indicate that _yes, this conversation is over, if you have more to say, put it into your kriffing report, will you?_ It had never truly shut Hux up. Apparently, not even death can make him shut up. 

It’s calming, to a degree. Pryde stares at him, the way his greasy, sweaty hair clings to his face. His eyes are filled with the terror only imminent death can make you feel. Pryde prefers looking into his haunted eyes because that way he can avoid looking at his chest. He knows what he’ll find there. He’s not ready for it. 

_“Why don’t you run?”_ Hux asks. 

There are so many words on Pryde’s tongue that he finds it impossible to choose. 

_Because I didn’t give you the chance to run either. Because I don’t know where to go. Because I’ve been borrowing time for so long, I don’t know how to pay back for it. Because I’m scared._

He exhales heavily, makes a few steps towards the front window to glance at the stars. So many words to say but the dead can’t listen anyway. There’s no point in talking now. 

_“Enric.”_

The ghost can’t be real, Pryde realizes and almost breaks out into hysterical laughter, Hux would never call him that. Or maybe he would, just not with the same affection his friends at the academy said it. If Hux called his name, it would sound like a cuss word. 

“Too late, my friend,” Pryde whispers. 

_“No. There's still time to leave,”_ the ghost says. Pryde finally dares to look at his torso. 

There's a dark spot in Hux’ chest, burnt laser edges, a hole ready to swallow Pryde too. He clenches his fists and looks straight forward, at a navy of ships that's not a navy, at a system led by chaos. 

_“You can start new, have a second chance…”_

“This was my second chance,” Pryde replies. 

Hux' ghost looks at him, melancholy all over his pale face. The explosion is almost close enough to embrace them both. 

“Will it hurt?” Pryde asks. He sounds like a child. Maybe he has always been one. The child who loves fireworks. The child who can't wait to join the army. The young man who gets stationed on board that huge battleship, right after graduation. Ten years rush by, then he stumbles and falls, the Empire crumbling beneath his feet. It brings you to the kind of battle that makes you wonder why you fight. What war means to you. The kind of battle that teaches you how to lose. 

This is Jakku all over again. 

But this time Pryde can't run. His feet are tired. 

So, he asks again, “Will it hurt, Hux?”, the name a death-wish on his tongue. 

_“It's the surprise that gets you.”_

Pryde can smell the fire, he can hear screams, someone begs the Force to save them. His fleet is dying. His ship is sinking. 

“I'm sorry,” is all he can offer to the ghost. 

Hux smiles. His fingertips seem to brush his cheek, to wipe away tears that Pryde didn’t notice he was crying. The imaginary sensation is almost too much to handle. Pryde closes his eyes. 

Reality catches up to him. He doesn't want to die. He never wanted to die. 

The Empire is not worth dying for. 

It's his last thought as the explosion wraps its arms around him and extinguishes every dream he ever had. 

The bridge explodes. Pryde falls.


End file.
